Four Weeks.

Four weeks ago today, Jason boarded a plane and flew to England.

For four weeks, I've not kissed anyone other than my mum and grandma.

I went scale free for four weeks in August. (Well, from the 6th. Close enough.)

In four weeks time, I will be blissfully enjoying the school holidays.

And four weeks from now, I'll be four weeks closer to not being on my own anymore. Now that's something I can look forward to, wouldn't you say?

What Nice Shoes You Have.

When I am asked what I notice first about the opposite sex, I have a couple of staple answers: I look at their eyes, to see if they are friendly. I look at their smile, to see what makes them laugh. I look at their butt, because . . . well, why not? But I've come to realise that I almost always leave a certain something off my reply list, even though it's a pretty darned important one.

I'm talking about their shoes.

I think that I'm fairly fussy when it comes to shoes. I used to work in a shoe store when I was at university and once upon a time I owned a fairly large collection of shoes. I happen to know there are some really ugly shoes out there, and so I can't help my eyes wandering to people's feet from time to time.

The first time I met Jason, I wasn't sure what to expect. For those who don't know, we were introduced randomly online, and despite chatting for months I had never seen a photo of him. Why not? I don't know. Maybe because I wasn't actively looking to find a partner on the internet, so I never thought to ask what he looked like. Besides, I developed a good old fashioned crush on him through his words, and not based on his looks. How many people can say that about their significant others? How we met is a story for another day, though. Let me backtrack to my first impressions.

As you may have expected, one of the first things I looked at were his shoes. Because honestly, most guys don't think much of their shoes - not as much as we ladies do anyway, I would hinge a bet. Luckily, Jason passed the test. He was wearing a pair of brown Colorado boat shoes, ones I recognised from my retail days. They're nice shoes that look very stylish under jeans or pants, all men should own a pair just like it. [Jumps off soapbox.] Jason finds my shoe fascination very amusing, but seriously; if he had been wearing a pair of scruffy, ugly shoes on our first date? I don't know what I would have done. Ack.

So, let me put the age old question on to you: What thing/things do you notice first when you're randomly meeting a person of opposing gender to yourself. What is it that makes you check those things out first? I don't have many male readers, but I'm very interested to see what you have to say!

Overheard in the Classroom #4

"Miss S is like a friend to me."

Very sweet, oh yes.

Conveniently stated too, as we just discussed parent-teacher interview times.

Funny that.

Correspondence to a Canteen.

Dear School Canteen,

Let me begin by thanking you for providing me with lots of fantastically fattening meals in the past, and for helping me fill up many a lunchtime with me stuffing my face. You also contributed to my fat stores, which have helped to keep me insulated over the winter months. I suppose I should thankyou for that, even if I am going through hell to try and remove it all from my midsection now.

We've had a pretty good relationship, you and I. Even if I have taken to avoiding walking past you, for fear of binging on chocolate milk and chicken nuggets. We get along fairly well. But I have to ask you to please . . . PLEASE, for the love of all things healthy, stop making your garlic scented chicken and rice stir-fries waft through my classroom door. It smells divine, while plastic wrap really does not.

You're making my cheese sandwich look a trifle miserable in comparison. Please cease yummy smells immediately, if you would be so kind.

Yours in nutrition,


A Monday Funny.

I've made a fair few mistakes when it comes to slips of the tongue in the past, particularly when I'm nervous. (Remember Lick Nachey, anyone?) I always figured I was just hopeless, but just yesterday I learned that my ability to mix words up and blurt out nonsense instead is genetic, and is all thanks to my hilarious dad.

After proudly showing him my tiny knitted wonky square, Dad had a bit of a chuckle and decided to pronounce that it was;

"Like a thumper for your jum."

Go ahead and decipher it for me. I'm too busy rolling around on the floor imagining his confused expression after he'd said it. Hee.

Caution: Dangerous with Needles.

When I first went to high school, I'd like to think I was pretty cluey about my studies. I loved to read, I loved to write and I enjoyed learning about things I was interested in, particularly anything to do with history. But when it came to anything practical, I was a little like Hermione Granger without a spellbook: nervous, antsy and paranoid. Unlike dear Hermione though, who eventually managed to be brilliant in all areas, I really WAS hopeless. Cooking class? Oh dear. Woodwork class? Ha! Metalwork class? Don't even get me started on that one.

If there was one thing I learned from my seventh grade Textiles class (that we were forced to take, I might add) it was that I have the skill of a toddler when it comes to anything needlework. I remember one of our assessment items was to create a pencilcase out of fabric, the fussiest part being attaching the zipper using a sewing machine. It was fairly simple to most of my classmates, even those who hadn't sewn before. But to my horror and embarrassment, I was completely awful at it. I don't even remember what the final product looked like, but you can bet that it was a shocker. Am sure that my Textiles teacher graded me with much amusement.

I simply cannot sew. Or knit. Or even hold a needle and thread properly.

Most people think I'm exaggerating when I say I can't do these things. Haven't I ever stitched a button on a coat before? The answer is yes, however it wasn't done very well. I could barely even thread a sewing needle, and my idea of stitching on a button was to just keep looping the thread through the holes enough to make sure it wouldn't fall off again anytime soon. As for knitting? Let's just say I won't be creating any woolen masterpieces any time soon.

Since my grandma has been staying up here for the weekend after a short stint in hospital, I decided to make use of her domestic skills and have her teach me how to knit. Unlike her clutzy granddaughter, nanna is a whiz with needles. I'm sad I didn't get those genes from her and am hoping they will be passed down to the next generation of kids in our family, should I ever have them. I'd hate for them to be stuck with me trying to teach them, poor things.

Having agreed to help out, I got my trusty "learn to knit" kit out and joined her on the lounge. My first knitting project was to knit a scarf some kids booties a fancy jumper a really tiny square. That's it. A puny little square, nothing fancy. 'Pah!' I says to myself. 'A square! I can do that. No worries.'

Nan proceeded to give me a walk through of how to cast on to the needle and where to go next. She did that again. And again. And a few times more, after watching me stare blankly at the knitting needles. Eventually I moved on to doing some myself, but because I am a fussy wee thing, I'd unravel it all and start over if it got messy. And let's face it, it got messy fairly quickly. And that was only with 12 stitches!

After ditching my attempts for a few hours, I brought out the needles again to settle in for a night of keeping my grandma company. I figured it would be nice and companionable; me knitting my square (!), nan doing some crochet work, and the television blaring away in the background. It didn't quite turn out that way though. Replace the companionable silence with exclamations like 'Bugger!', 'Crap! I lost it again!', 'Bloody wool!' and 'Nan ... help!' and you'd have a fairly good idea of what was going on in my lounge room. Good times were had by all.

I do have a nice mini square now, though it isn't exactly symmetrical. It's also a little frayed at the edges, due to my frequent habit of ripping it all off and starting again. But you know what? It's a square all the same. A square that I knitted, all mostly by myself. If only my Textiles teacher could see me now . . .

'The List' & Some Technical Difficulties.

I've gone from being completely motivated to completing items off "The List", to slouching around in the afternoons feeling lazy. Such a change of heart in such a short time, it's a bit of a worry! I figured I'd refresh my memory about some of those items, and see what opportunities I'll have coming up in the coming weeks.

Exercising? Well, I've been fairly good, but I can say for certain it hasn't been done on 25 days this month. I've kept on blogging every day, which is to be expected. Yada Yada Yada. I don't shutup that easily. I'll be stalking Kirby again in a few weeks to see Snow Patrol in concert, so that's killing two birds with one stone. (Writing that expression just made me realise exactly how much I HATE that expression. Poor birds. Why would people want to kill them, anyway?)

Moving along . . . I did manage to save $2000 this month, which is fantastic. I was about ready to apply for my UK Visa, but Jase suggested leaving it another month, so I'll follow his advice and wait a little longer. I had a room clean-out a few weeks ago, and there's not really much else I can do until I'm closer to moving out, so there's another dead end. I'm going scale free until September 1st, so I have no idea what my weight is, but judging by the size of my belly from this angle? It hasn't changed a great deal. And I haven't really got any plans to head out anywhere, at least not until the next school holidays arrive.

In fact, about the only exciting thing I can think of involves a new friend of mine. Her name's Kelly, and we met through a weight loss blogging community a couple of months ago. My greatest achievement so far, has been convincing her to start her own wordpress blog, which you should all stop by and visit.

Kel has even started her own version of "The List" (also complete with speech marks) and is helping me out on one of my items: The dreaded colour pink. In case you're not aware, I'm not a fan of anything pink. I usually get looks of shock when I announce this, because apparently all blondes should be wearing pink, but I've just never liked it. I have precisely one pink item in my cupboard, and I certainly didn't buy it for myself. Kel has made it her mission to pinkify me, and is going to send me a little something in my favourite shade. The rules? I have to wear it out in public and take a photograph of myself while doing so. I'm excited (and a little nervous) about what she's got in store for me, and can't wait!

As for the technical part of this post, I've had a few people email me and let me know that they are having trouble seeing my blog being updated via Bloglines & Google Reader. I've recently registered my blog with Feedburner so if you are having any trouble, I would recommend removing my ramblings from your reader and re-adding it.

If you're wondering why your Readers are telling you that I've gone quiet all of a sudden, just remember: I'm the Aussie freak who posts every day. Chances are they've just gone crazy, as they tend to do sometimes. They're a wonderful invention, but can be very fickle wee things at times.

Since I know a few of you are addicted to coffee, make sure you pay a visit to the Oracle of Starbucks. I have to admit, he's pretty all-seeing and all-knowing, he got me down to a tee: "You don't go to Starbucks much; when you do you just tag along with other people since you have nothing better to do. You would like to order a Tazo Chai Crème but don't know how to pronounce it. Most people who drink Tall Caramel Macchiato are strippers." It's true. I really don't visit Starbucks much. And I am a stripper. What does the Oracle say about you?

Resistance is Futile.

When you're trying to lose weight, simple things seem to require a lot more thinking than usual. You start to plan ahead when it comes to food choices, you have to think about your options when you have a day out and you experience good and bad feelings based on what you eventually decide to put in your mouth.

To sum it up? You have food on the brain. Always. In great detail. Mmm. Food.

It's one thing to change your lifestyle in day to day terms. But being on a diet while you're working with primary school kids? It's just plain torture.

Growing up, I remember having a sandwich, some sort of muesli bar, fruit and bottled cordial in my lunchbox. Ha! You should see some of the things these kidlets have in their lunchboxes! They have several different kinds of lollies, chocolates and cake bars. I've even seen cans of soft drink brought to school! Don't even get me started on the canteen. They have a whole lot of healthy options, but the favourites are still the meat pies, the hot dogs, the hash browns and the chicken nuggets. How's a well-rounded teacher supposed to stay healthy with all of these kids ordering sweet-smelling (and highly fattening) lunch orders?

I'm being good. I'm eating my packed lunch of fruit, yoghurt and a sandwich . . . But damned if I haven't been craving a hot dog all day long.

Blogging: How Serious Are You?

I've spent a fair amount of time over the past few weeks perusing blogs and seeking as much information as I could get my hands on, for the sheer sake of borrowing creative genius. It seems that when it comes to blogging, we tend to fall into a particular category. I'm not just talking about the standard blogging genres, because I don't believe I 'fit' into any in that respect anyway; I blog about education, I blog about myself & I blog about odds and ends. Categorise me where you so desire. No, what I'm talking about is how seriously we take our blogging.

While I will stand by the fact that I began this particular blog because of hilarious writer's like Amalah, I wasn't doing so for fame or fortune of my own. If you have, for some bizarre reason, ever taken the time to go through my archives, you'll notice that for months I had practically no readers at all. Except for my Mother, bless her cotton socks. (And after reading back over some of the dribble that I came up with in 2006, I'm surprised that I have any readers at all right now. Completely cringe-worthy.) So blah blah, I didn't start this blog for popularity; it was more like a way of me writing every day, even if those days didn't contain anything newsworthy. Once I pick a challenge, I usually stick with it.

Thanks to the wonder that is the internet, I've made my fair share of blogging friends. In fact, when something of note happens, I tend to scramble for the keyboard to blog and/or email you all, because sharing with you seems equally important as sharing to the people who surround me in reality. (Ha, in reality. That makes you all sound like figments of my imagination. Hello? Are you really there?) In regards to what I write, the content itself is all over the place. I would like to say that I don't censor my writing for anybody, but that would be a lie. I'm very aware of who reads my blog. I'm very aware that I'm unaware of people who read my blog. And so I do keep things censored, and steer away from certain topics. Them's the breaks for not being anonymous, and for keeping things 'real'.

As you can see, I'm doing a wonderful job of my usual trick today; rambling on and getting off track. Just a few paragraphs ago, I was discussing the seriousness of blogging. But what exactly does that mean? I don't actually know. Let me have a stab at figuring this one out.

There are the popular bloggers; ones with an insane amount of readers, the ones that are common place on our blogrolls and are well-known amongst the rest of us. Then there are blogs who fall in the middle; they still value their blogs and take care of how they look, and are happy with their fabulous, if a little smaller circle of friends. (Of course, they always welcome new visitors, too.) And then there are blogs for people who just plain enjoy having their own space of the internet to call home, unconcerned with who reads them, how many comments their posts recieve and what their site statistics happen to be on a certain day. Which of these do you think you fall into?

I think for the time being, I'm an 'on the fence' blogger. I do secretly experience thrills of pride when I see myself on a new blogroll or when I make a new blogging friend, but if there suddenly became a rule where your current readership was frozen forever? I'd be happy with what I've got. As for my writing, well, I have my days. I'm happy enough posting a random quote from one of the kidlets one day, followed by a deep and meaningful post about the future the next. Nothing like a little variation, and besides - that's life. All over the place.

But does all that mumbo-jumbo make me serious about my blogging? I think it does.

I blog every day. Regardless of the content, I try to ensure that my posts contain good grammar. I use spell check before posting. I punctuate fairly well, if you ignore my overuse of commas and exclamation marks, but that's a story for another day. I enjoy recieving comments from readers who have enjoyed what I've posted about, or simply want to join in on the topic at hand. I'm fussy with my sidebar, and currently love my text-based template. Checking the blogs of my stalkeriffic friends is something I do daily.

Blogging is simply a part of my routine, including in my lunch breaks.

What are your thoughts? Do you think you are serious about blogging?

I know I'm seriously addicted, in any case. And wouldn't have it any other way.

This & That.

I have a whole stack of things I could blog about today, but not a smidgen of energy to type them all out. As much as I'll whinge about it later, I'm actually looking forward to the weather turning warmer; freezing in the playground during lunch-duty is definitely not my idea of a good time! Even finding the motivation to get dressed into gym clothes instead of fluffy pyjamas once I'm home from work is proving to be difficult. What's a girl to do?

So, what is the remedy to this lazy situation? Why, borrowing other people's brains, of course. And as Lara says, stealing is a great form of flattery. And yes, I do happen to be nabbing the following bits & pieces from her blog. Drop by and say hi!

Am bringing memes-back. [Yeah.] Starting with Blogging Tips.

It’s very simple. When this is passed on to you, copy the whole thing, skim the list and put a star (*) beside those you like. Add the next number (1. 2. 3. 4. 5., etc.) and write your own blogging tip for other bloggers. After that, tag 10 other people. Link love some friends! Just think- if 10 people start this, the 10 people pass it onto another 10 people, you have 100 links already!

1. Look, read, and learn. *
2. Be, EXCELLENT to each other.
3. Don’t let money change ya!
4. Always reply to your comments. *
5. Link liberally— it keeps you and your friends afloat in the Sea of Technorati *
6. Don’t give up - persistence is fertile.
7. Give link credit where credit is due. **
8. Pictures say a thousand words and can usually add to any post. **
9. Visit all the bloggers that leave comments for you - it’s nice to know who is reading! ***
10. When commenting on others’ blogs, a few kind words go a long way. ***
11. Don’t limit yourself to reading only where you think your interests are; blogging can add infinitely to one’s knowledge base. *
12.Don’t write a book and consider writing text that equals 2 minutes of reading. Some of us have short attention spans and can’t handle reading a 10 page paper in a web browser. Pictures sometimes say it better than words. ( I know someone else already said it, but it was a good hint)
13. Blogging should never be a chore - if it's not fun anymore, something needs to change! *
14. Don't steer clear of blogging about 'the everyday' things; you'd be surprised just how interesting that can be to other people.

As for Meme #2, well, you'll catch on to it pretty quickly!
Also taken from Lara's blog.

1. You wake up in the morning. What time is it probably?
The first time I wake up is at 5:45am. Here I usually fumble around for my mobile phone and reset the alarm for 6:30am. This is when I usually stumble out of bed and pry my eyelids open using toothpicks.

2. You get yourself some breakfast. What do you make?
Lately I've been making sure I eat breakfast, I used to skip it more than I should have. It's either toast with vegemite, or two weetbix with warm milk.

3. Someone calls you on the phone. Who do you want it to be?
I never (NEVER) get phone calls in the morning, so I hope it isn't an emergency. I could hope it would be J calling from England, just to say hello.

4. You turn on the TV for a bit. What channel do you put it on?
The Comedy Channel. Usually I can find something amusing to watch while I scoff my breakfast and try to keep warm.

5. You have some time to kill before you leave. What do you do?
Check on the bunnies to make sure they have food & water.

6. You go and have a shower. How long does it take you?
I'm a fast shower-er-er-er. Usually 5-10 minutes, depending on whether I'm shaving my legs or washing my hair. See? Quick!

7. You decide to get yourself ready for your day. How long does it take?
5 minutes to get the majority of water out of my hair, a couple of minutes to get dressed and brush my teeth. Low maintainence, all the way.

8. You put on some makeup. What do you put on?
I don't really wear makeup, rarely to work. If I am getting glammed up (!) for some reason, I'd put on a layer of tinted moisturiser, usually a little mascara and some lip balm. Of course, now that my lashes are tinted, I don't even need that!

9. You’re ready to leave. What do you take out with you?
Just my handbag. With food for recess & lunch breaks, too.

10. How long does it take you to get to work?
Takes me between 20-25 minutes, depending on traffic lights.

11. What is the first thing you do when you get to work?
Sign in at work, check my in-tray and then wander down to the classrooms. Once in there, I usually just potter around my room and get set up for the day ahead - planning the day's activities, having any notes or sheets ready, and make sure that I can actually find my desk under all of the crap that is thrown on top of it.

12. Do you take part in office gossip/water cooler talk?
How about just staff room talk? I'll participate if I have something to say, or else I'll just sit quietly and listen. Fly on the wall, you know.

13. Anything particularly annoying about each work day?
Kidlets that don't listen. It's really starting to grate on my nerves.

14. What’s the best part of the day?
I love the moments in class where one of the kidlets will actually get the gist of something you're teaching them. Seeing the imaginary light-bulb flash on is very rewarding, especially since in my integration class, it doesn't happen often.

15. Do you usually leave on time or stay late? Take any work home with you?
Last year I was busy doing accreditation, documenting a huge project. Since I completed that, I'm spending less time at school after hours. Most work that I take home is generally related to my teaching program, or any special things I need to have done.

16. The boss calls to tell you that don’t have to work, and you’re free for a whole day. What do you do?
Dude. Not going to happen. Why go and get my hopes up? I'd spend my day at home in bed, and wouldn't get out of my pyjamas.

17. With whom would you want to spend the day?
Jason. Although considering I only have the one day off, and that a flight to London takes about 24 hours, I don't quite think that would work.

18. You go to the store to get some snackage, but it turns out you can only buy one thing there. What do you buy?
Maybe a loaf of bread? You can do lots with a loaf of bread.

19. You’re walking down the street and you find a magic lamp that grants you 3 wishes. What do you wish for?
First things first, I would second Lara's wish for a never-ending supply of money. I'd also wish that all vegetables could taste like junk food & all junk food would have no calories. And I'd wish for a never-ending pack of TimTams.

20. You meet a man who says he will give you your dream job, what is it?
It would be writing a novel of my choice in a pretty cottage in the country.

21. You can choose any concert of any singer/band in the world; whose do you go to?
Lifehouse & The Goo Goo Dolls. (I can put them both, because they recently toured together, so I'd just go to that concert.) Lifehouse mean more to me than most people will ever imagine, and I adore the Goos music. Plus, Johnny is hot.

22. You get home & there’s a check for $50,000 in the mail for you. On what would you spend it?
I'd put it in a high interest savings account and try not to touch it.

23. You get to bring back anyone from the dead, famous or not. Who would it be?
Dumbledore. (Nitwick, Blubber, Oddball, Tweek.)

24. You get to interview your favorite celebrity. Who is it, and what would you ask him/her?
I really don't have a favourite celebrity. No idea on this one. (Honestly!)

25. You get to see into the future but you can only find out one thing about your future life. What would you want to find out?
If I'm going to be happy & content.

26. At the end of your perfect day, you go on a perfect date; describe it.
Heading out to dinner somewhere special but not overly fancy, driving somewhere pretty, listening to music, and lots of talking and cuddling. (And maybe a little bling thrown in there, for good measure.)

Overheard in the Classroom #3

[The following was taken from a writing prompt activity. Just imagine a paper with scribbles, frantic eraser marks and a whole lot of spelling mistakes.]

"If you don't clean up the environment, the germs will get out and they will kill you. And then people will die. Because of the germs."

Right you are, kiddo. Right you are. Gotta watch those germs.

A Bit of a Story.

Once upon a time there was a young woman who loved to sleep.

[Hi! That's me.]

She loved snuggling up in her bed with her two three four five alright, SIX pillows, scrunching her toes up to her knees until the sheets warmed up, and blissfully arching her back until all of her muscles relaxed.

[I really do have six pillows. Don't you?]

The young woman spent a fair few years sleeping alone, squished and comfy in her single bed. Eventually she upgraded to a double bed, where she took to sleeping stretched out diagonally. A few years after that, she learned to share her bed with her longtime partner boy, and occasionally shared a few pillows and some of the blankets too.

[He still got the flatter, less comfy pillows. I got the good ones.]

One day, the boy hopped on a plane and flew to another country that was a long, long way away. The girl was sad, but knew that she would be with him in a few short months, and besides, at least she got to sleep in her whole bed again. With all six pillows. But even though she could stretch out to her heart's content, she missed having the boy to snuggle with. The girl was lonely, and sad.

[But still no tears yet. Am obviously a freak. A lonely freak.]

The End.

[Am heading to bed alone now. Mraz lyrics are thanks to Kirby.]

Sleeping to dream about you,
But I'm so tired of having to live without you,
But I don't mind sleeping to dream about you,
But I'm so tired...

Ten Things on a Lazy Sunday.

E. over at Talking Budgie tagged me a few days ago to complete a bit of a challenge. Since I've had a fairly busy weekend (for me, anyway) what with heading to the movies, going for a night out dancing & people watching, and attending a Sydney vs. Melbourne netball grand final match, I figure this is the perfect opportunity to get meme-ing. And rest. Rest is good.

Let's get on with it - the "Ten Things I Like About Myself" meme challenge.

  1. I can laugh at myself; I have completely stupid blonde moments, I'm slightly gullible and I'll fall for basically any practical joke you can pull out. But I can laugh about it. And that makes it all okay.

  2. I like my teeth; they've done me well over the years, minor cavities aside. I actually don't mind my smile, on the odd occasion that I snap a decent picture.

  3. I'm a pretty good goal-setter; I might have setbacks along the way, but I can say that I've stuck to most goals that I've set for myself. Or am at least working towards achieving them.

  4. I'm a good listener; I can make time for other people. In fact, I like to make time for other people. I might not have any answers, but I think I can say that I'm a fairly stable shoulder to lean on. I'd like to think so anyway.

  5. I'm not a trend-setter; I've never been a trend-setter. I will most likely never be a trend-setter. And that's fine by me.

  6. I'm a little knowledgeable at a few little things; I'm getting better with practical stuff, I have a good memory for remembering how to do things. (Unless it has anything to do with cleaning. Then I'm forgetful.)

  7. I'm learning to be more patient; I used to be so focused on the future that I stopped thinking about the present. I admit, I still fantasize about jumping forward five years and imagining what life will be like, but I'm also comfy with where I am right now.

  8. I'm 'growing up'; from organising plane tickets, to saving money, to setting up international interviews, I just feel more in control.

  9. I like my hair; when it behaves, that is.

  10. I'm coping on my own; I miss Jason like you wouldn't believe, but I'm still alive and kicking. And having fun, for the most part. I will be alright. I am alright.

If you're interested in a way to feel good about yourself, consider stealing this meme. It made me think, that's for sure. Thanks, E.:)

The Great Eyelash Tinting of 07.

[The post in which I waffle on about trivial things like hair and eyelashes and things. Five minutes of your life you'll never be able to get back again.]

I think in whatever field of work you reside in, there's a need to be empathetic about things which may be sensitive or emotionally disturbing to you or your clients/peers. For teaching, it can be as simple as not going on and on about Mothers Day, when you've got a kidlet in your class who doesn't have a mother. If you're a hairdresser? To me, it means you listen to the client and try to do what they want, clarifying what you're doing along the way.

In simpler terms? Do not fuck with their hair. Give them what they want. Give them only what they want. Because if you fuck with their hair? It takes a mighty long time to grow back. And yes. This is coming from personal experience.

In December, I visited a salon near my work - we had a year six farewell dinner that night and I thought I'd have a shampoo and blowdry, since only hairdressers can make my hair go all smooth and flippy and frizz-free. While I was there, I decided to get my hair trimmed. Keep in mind, I have long hair. It was about mid-way down my back at that stage, with only one mid-sized layer to keep it thick. I'm sure you see where this story as going. To quote myself, here's what happened;

I went into the hairdresser today with high hopes and a few simple words. "Just a tiny trim off the length - I’m trying to grow it out. Oh and just trim my fringe too, please." I thought that meant "Just a tiny trim off the length - I’m trying to grow it, oh and just trim my fringe too, please." [As you would, right?] Apparently what it actually meant was "Hack at my hair in large chunks, giving me Rachel-style bangs around my face and chopping at least 2 inches of length off the back and 5 inches around my face. And then beat me with a stick."

Yep, she really did that. Left me with mutilated hair and layers that refuse to grow out, eight months later. As well as a fear of people wielding scissors.
Aly hair omg!To say I was nervous about visiting the salon yesterday was an understatement. I relaxed a little while being shampooed (somehow, massaging your own scalp in the shower just doesn't have the same effect as lying in a comfy chair with someone else doing it to you) and ended up spilling my hair horror story to my stylist, who did a great job of acting surprised, sympathetic & outraged all at once.
(I love that woman.)

To cut an already-getting-long story short, she fixed the damage. She fixed the straggly bits, re-shaped the will-be-growing-out-forever layers & gave me some side swept bangs, that seem to be behaving so far.

(And no, I didn't get brave and have my hair colour changed while I was there, it's just that my el-cheapo camera has apparently decided I look better as a brownish red-head. And what el-cheapo camera wants, el-cheapo camera gets.)

As for the eyelash tinting? Me and my spectacular MS Paint skills put together a little before & after diagram for you. Let me just share an occupational health and safety warning before we begin, as viewing these up close photographs may cause blinding and retinal damage. Thank you.

You may click here to see the results, if you're so inclined.

And on a completely unrelated note, I have just added some of my new-found blog stalkees to my "Stalkeriffic Blogs" page. Check it out, and do drop me a line if I've forgotten you. Will remedy immediately, for chocolates of course.

Overheard in the Classroom #2

The following excerpt was taken from a student's spelling book;

"A Diplodocus is a plait eating dinosaur."

Be afraid, girls. Be very afraid.

Plodding on Along.

I've got a few upcoming events from "The List" planned for the next couple of days, which should be fairly interesting. What's that? I should just spit them all out?

Alrighty then.

Perhaps the most exciting one is that as of last night? I'm officially reading the Deathly Hallows. Only a few chapters in, and I've bawled already. I don't know how I'm going to get through this one without a tissue box by my side at all times.

Tonight I'm experimenting in the kitchen: chicken & herb meatballs with pasta.

Tomorrow I'm heading to the hairdressers & have booked in for eyelash tinting!

On Saturday, I might be going and seeing another movie in Gold Class. How's that for extravagance? Must start saving my pennies . . . for gourmet pizza. Also on Saturday, I'm heading out for a night on the town with my mum and some of her friends. I'm trying to drag along one of my colleagues for a night of people watching and dancing, so if you're reading this Ms KC? You have to come along with me.

And finally, I'm now the proud owner of a Swear Jar! Of course, I'm too poor to use it as I'm saving up, but at least it's there. Must start talking like a lady . . .

Am looking forward to them all! I think even after this year ends and I make the big seachange, I will keep a list of sorts up and running. Is good. I like it uh-lot.

(Of course, I'm saving all of the er, less interesting items for last; such as giving blood, cleaning my room, going to the dentist. But honestly, wouldn't you?)

Good Rabbit Momma, My Arse.

After last week's bunny-related injuries, you may or may not remember that I vowed to have the last laugh, by booking Ricky in to have his 'bits' removed. You might also recall my disappointment in not being able to find any said 'bits' myself, because surely it was my rabbit momma duty to be capable of peering into bunny nether regions and spying any suspicious bulges. I discovered rabbit mounting, humping and a few random weird smells, but nary a ball in sight.

To cut a long story short, today was the day. I had Ricky all set in his travelling cage before I left for work and Mum dropped him down to the vet's office for me. I presumed all was going well, until I got a phone call from my mother in the afternoon, who said four dreadful words: "We've got a problem." Of course, I then had flashbacks to when I got the bad news about Bella-Rabbit, and immediately started panicking.

Turns out the news was just a little less stressful than that, though.

Ricky's first check up fee & shots: $38
Quote for Ricky's De-Sexing Operation: $95
Possible Price of an Infected Hand Amputation: $10,000+ (Who knows?)
Finding out that your BOY RABBIT is actually a GIRL RABBIT? Priceless.

No operation was necessary. And I'm not completely useless when it comes to bunnies, since there were never actually any balls to find. Poor Ricky, being subjected to almost daily physical examinations for nothing. He must have felt so violated. I'm not changing his name either, we'll just call him/her Ricki. Like Ricki Lake. Go Ricki! Go Ricki!

And guess what? The little bugger gave me two fresh scratches today. Some things never change, even if you are a slightly confused cross-gendered bunny.

Because Pink Mashed Potato is Always Better Than White Mashed Potato.

Last night it was just Mum, Dad & I about to eat dinner together - something that rarely happens around here anymore. We were all set and ready to go, when Dad's work phone rang so he scuttled off to answer it (crazy man). Because Mum & I are polite, we sat down quietly at the table and waited for him to come back . . .

No, actually, I'm lying. We didn't. Since the average time of a work phone call is undetermined and unknown, we decided to just eat without him. He understands these things. And we were hungry. 'Nuff said.

Before I go on with this riveting (!) anecdote, let me rewind a little to Sunday, where I was excited to find no-sugar Creaming Soda on special at the shops. (As you can tell, I don't get out much. But it was only 80c for the bottle!) Since I'm trying to be good, the diet soft drink/soda really struck a chord with me, and I'd been waiting to open it up ever since we got home. Now fast forward to last night, where I decided to break it open for dinner.

The bottle had been sitting on the table. It hadn't been knocked over. It hadn't been shaken. It looked fairly innocent. But being skeptical of fizzy drinks, I still opened up the lid really slowly, just in case things got a little bubbly. Mum was sitting in front of me. Creaming Soda is red.

Do you see where this story is going yet?

Everything that happened next took place in slow motion. (Or at least, that's what I see in my head every time I replay the event and pee a little in my pants.)

As I slowly opened the bottle lid, there were no bubbles in sight. Of course, now that the danger was over, I could quickly twist the cap off and get on with the drinking of the red fizzy goodness. Er, wrong. For some reason, at the last turn of the cap, the bottle started spraying Creaming Soda EVERYWHERE.

My reaction? A strangled "Argh!". A frantic twisting of the cap back on. And the pointing of the bottle away from me. Towards Mum. And her mashed potatoes.

[Excuse me for a minute, seeing the slow motion version in my head is still making me break out into giggles a whole twelve hours later.]

The spraying assault eventually stopped, and the first thing Mum did was grab her piece of grilled chicken and gingerly shake the droplets off. And then glare at me as I laughed. Hysterically. Because her mashed potatoes? They were pink. And her chicken? It was dripping. (As was she.)

As for her pyjamas? Let's just be thankful they were pink to start with.

A Post Without "Friend" In The Title.

Because apparently I like the word too much, having used it in the last two posts.

Not that there's anything wrong with that. Friends are good. I like friends. In fact, I wish I had more of them, so that we could have big shopping days, and dinner dates and paintball games. (Perhaps I should have added some more things to "The List".)

Speaking of friends, some days I really miss being in school. Where you get to be in your comfort zone, seeing your friends day in & day out, making plans to see movies on the weekend . . . I know that there are people who are lucky enough to have similar experiences in their 'real world jobs', but for me it's never really happened that way. I make friends, yes, but not really ones who care to spend time with me outside of work hours. It's actually a little sad.

I'm dedicating this post to all the lonely souls out there; this one's for you.

[The following statement needs to be read in a super speedy voice, ala the fast voice overs on television. Breathing whilst repeating it is strictly optional.]


Punch Is Your Friend.

Did you know that I didn't touch an alcoholic beverage of any kind until I was 19?

I know.

It's true, though. Not a single sip of beer. Nada. Nothing. Alright, I did indulge in one disgustingly creamy Mud Slide on my 18th birthday dinner, which I couldn't stand and ended up giving away, but other than that? I was completely alcohol free. Until I went to Europe, that is. Ah sweet Europe, where they have wine on every table and keep the booze flowing all evening long.

I have fond memories to this day of my first drunken romp in an Aussie pub in Nice, France. I especially remember stumbling up the stairs to the bathroom, giggling hysterically while on the loo because I was swaying rather a lot, and forcing people to plait my hair for me. (What I don't remember is how we got home. No idea.)

Anyway, I soon discovered that I had a fairly nifty (and expensive) trick when it came to drinking. Even though I technically should have been a lightweight as I never drank alcohol, I came to realise that it seemed to take a lot of drinks to make me tipsy. Am talking lots of glasses of wine. A fair few bottles of girly drinks. Loads of cocktails. None of this one-drink-wonder crap. I apparently had guts of steel. Good to brag about, expensive for a night on the town.

Last night we had a little Sing Star shindig, and I decided to throw together some punch for myself. I wasn't particularly fussed on what was going in it or what it looked like, since it was only me that would be indulging in it. I ended up tossing in some tropical fruit juice, a little diet lemonade, some Midori and some Vodka.

Don't ask me for the recipe, as I made my little concoction using the old "pour and sip" taste testing method. I don't know how much alcohol was in it altogether. All I know is that it tasted pretty darned good and I was giggling an hour later. And it was only 7pm.

Apparently I'm a lightweight after all. (Or I just make bloody awesome punch.)

Procrastination is a Girl's Best Friend.

I think it's time I declare something: I still haven't read the final Harry Potter book.

Does that make me the last person alive who doesn't know the fate of Harry & the gang? Probably. Barring the crazies folks out there who aren't fans of the series and have no intention of reading it, that is. But the only fan left? Yep. Is possible.

Don't get me wrong; I adore the Harry Potter series. They are treasured books, ones I can happily re-read when the moment takes me. Like hundreds of others, I pre-ordered the book so that I would get it soon after it's release. It's been sitting patiently on my shelf, waiting for me to get off my arse and around to reading it.

At first, I decided to put off reading the book before Jason went to London; The way that I get involved in books, he would have had difficulty prying me off my bed to spend any time with me what-so-ever. I decided that I would save The Deathly Hallows until the weekend following his departure, so I could bury my nose in the story and pretend that I hadn't just said goodbye to my partner for five months.

That weekend came and went. Did I read it? Nope. I fell back into one of my old quirky habits with reading novels in a series - I decided to start again. I finished the first three books in the week before Jase left, as they were only small and I had that viral infection of death. Goblet of Fire was completed during lonely weekend number one. Order of the Phoenix was finished over the past week.

I've just re-started the Half Blood Prince. You get the idea.

This year, people have tried really hard to keep things as spoiler free as possible. Nearly every blog I've come across that has mentioned the Deathly Hallows, has used multiple exclamation marks and capital letter headings - !!!!!! ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK !!!!!! or warnings, kindly looking after readers like me. They have no idea how appreciative of this I am, as nearly a month after the book's release?

I still don't know what happens.

I remain spoiler free. Just the way I like it. And if you spoil it for me? I will grab a big stick, wave it around your forehead pretending to incant spells, and then jab you repeatedly in the eyeballs with it when you are least expecting it.

(I'm not a violent person, honestly.)

On Ooze & Bunny Balls.

A couple of days ago, I was putting Ricky back in the hutch when he decided to help me out a little, by launching himself into a flying leap off my hands and into the enclosure. Which was all well and good, except that one of his claws gave me a tiny scratch on my palm on the way down.

No big deal. I washed my hands and didn't think anything of it.

Until now, that is. Since the spot has since turned sore and puffy and looks suspiciously oozy, for lack of a better word.

It's not pretty. Think I'm dying. May lose hand. Need sympathy. Now. Please.

Ah, well. I guess I'll get my own back on poor, unsuspecting Ricky this afternoon - it's time for the "Search for Ricky's Genitalia" quest to continue. And if we find any man-parts? It's hello expensive surgery and bye-bye bunny balls.

I'll keep you informed. (Because I know you're simply itching to know how it goes.)

Edit: He's been booked in for Tuesday morning, so he gets to enjoy his manliness for another couple of days. Do you think that I should hire him some strippers and/or bunny adult entertainment for his last party weekend?

Life is a Highway.

Every morning I drive the same twenty five minute route to work. Every morning I'm greeted with the same overwhelming stench of chicken manure as I drive past the pace farm on the corner. Every morning I get stuck behind the same cars who enjoy driving ten kilometres lower than the speed limit. Every morning I see the same striped car, with it's sunglassed owner chatting away on his mobile phone.

Every morning.

It's a fairly uneventful journey, but the things you notice on the drive are interesting. You see how many drivers break road rules and drive dangerously. You see how many drivers tailgate and overtake illegally. And you see people pulling some pretty amusing faces, too. Putting makeup on, talking on a hands-free kit, yelling at kids in the backseat, or even talking to themselves.

What would people notice if they paid attention to me driving along in my big red silver car? They'd most likely see me chewing on my lip (a horrible habit I've started doing more of recently), yawning hugely (am not a morning person) or belting out some tunes. (Let's face it: the car is hands-down the best place to sing.)

What do you think you look like when you're driving?

(In other non-driving news, Justin Timberlake is finally bringing his sexy down under. Is it bad that part of me wants to go and join the teenyboppers for the evening?)

Overheard in the Classroom #1

The setting: My pretty classroom.
The characters: Yours truly, a visiting classroom teacher and the kidlets.
The background: The teacher asked if she could lock her bag away in my storeroom, and a little polite conversation followed afterwards.

Kidlet #1: [shocked voice] Mrs S is friends with Mrs X!
Kidlet #2: [snotty voice] Well of COURSE she is. Where else would she find a friend?

Apparently I'm more of a social recluse than I thought, if the idea of me having friends shocks my kidlets to the core. And also, notice I am married?

(To myself, but not the point.)

A Month Without Scales.

Most of you know that I keep a separate blog that is solely for whinging about weight loss. Well, actually, I have two; one being a community style blog that other members can access, the other being an ordinary old, semi-anonymous blog. Seeing that I have enough ramblings to waffle on about here without adding the woes of my extra flab, I figure it works best for everyone that way.

But I did decide to talk about some weighty stuff today, in hopes that you can help me out. You see, I'm going scale free for the month of August, as of yesterday. I won't go into numbers here (though if you're nosey, you can always ask me) but basically, the scales have had me fluctuating between the same two kilograms for the past six weeks. And it's not as though that number is a healthy or ideal one. I still have a heck of a long way to go before I even come close to reaching goal, and that's why I'm getting so frustrated. And wanting to eat. More.

To get myself out of the 'woe is me, I am not losing weight, think I'll go eat worms' rut, I've decided to go scale free. I've moved them out of the bathroom, I'm not weighing in weekly, and to be honest, I'd rather not know. I know it won't last forever, but fingers crossed that when I'm back to my semi-motivated self who exercises most days and eats fairly well with just the occasional splurge, it'll make a difference. That's the plan, anyway. Talk to me on September 1st, and if the numbers are the same, I might just go buy a whole pizza instead.

What I need your help with, are some quick and easy food recipes. It'll help in two respects - keeping me healthy and eating well, but also adding to my overseas stash of recipes that I'd like to gather together. (I just can't help tossing in a "List" item every now and again.) Obviously it'd be better if they were low calorie ones, but they have to be tasty too! They don't have to be main meals. I'd actually love some light ideas for things I can make of an evening to take to school over the next few days, like scones or savoury muffins, anything like that. I know I have some fabulous chefs who stop by, so won't you help a girl out?

(Bonus points to whoever can create a recipe with vegetables that doesn't taste like vegetables. I'm a freak. I don't like vegetables. It's a bit of a challenge.)

Doing It In Style.

Chalk off another few list items if you will, because I killed two birds with one stone yesterday. To start with, I had my first Kirby catch-up, and am proud to announce to the internet that I didn't get lost ONCE. I made it all the way to her place, without heading in the wrong direction and in record time. I'm proud of myself. You should be too.

(I probably needed to add 'stop being so bloody useless when driving to unfamiliar places' as an item on my list, although I was trying to be realistic with my expectations, wasn't I?)

Stupid Aly idea of the day: Ordering a caramel macchiato from Starbucks. In grande size. With extra sugar. I don't drink coffee, ever, especially not 'gourmet' coffee, so I was hyper before even beginning our movie adventure. Just ask Kirby.

Yep, a good month after everyone else, we finally watched Harry Potter & the Order of the Phoenix. In Gold Class. What is that exactly? Basically, it's a really overpriced option of seeing a movie at any old theatre. You pay double the price, but get cushy seats and the option of being catered to while you enjoy the movie. I had a rough idea of what to expect, but yesterday's movie experience turned out to be much more extravagant than I predicted.

Firstly, we were told to bypass the candy bar and head towards the sign on the wall saying, yep, Gold Class. Once there, we stared around blankly, wondering where to go next and if we had to walk through the fire exit, when a sliding door magically opened in front of us. Once we shuffled awkwardly inside, we were greeted by a huge bar with one hell of a lot of wine bottles on it, and dozens of funky lounges with giant cushions. The lounge also had faces on the walls, roof and lamps, which was a little creepy and warranted me taking a photo.

(Unfortunately for you though, until I figure out how to get the images OFF my phone and onto the computer, you'll just have to imagine seeing Audrey Hepburn's face made out of dots on the ceiling. And random babies in lamps. Was weird.)

Feeling completely overwhelmed, we wandered up to the bar and asked what to do next. Here, we were given a menu (!) by the usher and asked to check it out and decide whether we'd like to order anything. As fascinated as I was by the $12 meat pies & $18 gourmet pizzas, all I wanted was my standard movie fare of popcorn and a drink. Which weren't on the menu. I was dismayed. And too embarrassed to ask for it. Especially since I was at this stage giggling like a schoolgirl because it was all so darned fancy. And because of caffeine. Lots of caffeine.

We eventually decided to be brave and ask the usher if we could have our popcorn, after which he proceeded to ask us at what time in the movie would we like our food? I was like, er, whenever? To which he sort of raised an eyebrow and probably thought about how I was a big stupid moron. We sat back down on the comfy lounge suite, singing along to Kylie Minogue on the speakers, and were soon showed into the theatre.

I thought we'd just be in a special section of the normal theatre, but I was way off on that one. We had our own private movie theatre! Well, not just Kirby and I. But there were only about 32 seats in the entire place. And boy, were they seats. Full reclining lounge chairs, with a table in front of them for food. It was just crazy. Sitting there in the big chairs playing with the recliner button, I felt like a little kid who was being naughty, I don't think I've laughed so much in a long time. (Kirby's fantastic company is to be commended.)

Despite a few minutes of mild panic when everyone else was delivered their gourmet food and cocktails (!) and our popcorn hadn't arrived, we did finally get our food. And it wasn't just in your standard cardboard packaging, either. Oh no. We got our popcorn in a big serving bowl, and our frozen cokes in tall drinking glasses. How's that for service?

All up, the movie itself was fantastic, the lounges were so comfortable and the whole experience was such a good day, I don't think I'll ever be able to go back to watching movies in 'economy class' anymore. But with a $36 price tag (plus food) I don't think I'll be able to afford the movies very much, either. I think Gold Class is excellent for longer movies, but definitely not a weekly thing. It's a shame though. One could get used to the luxury!

Sunday Google-age Round 9

It's back! Did you miss it? Sure, it's only been a few weeks but still. You missed it.


Hallmark Cards
Are overpriced and overrated. Who pays $8 for a card that you can make at home for practically nothing? I'm a big fan of homemade cards, think they're more personal. And I am also cheap. Not the point.

Spotty Arms
Yes, I do still have spotty arms. No, I have not yet found the miracle cure. Alas.

Synonym for Shitload
Er. Are you looking for a child friendly synonym? How about just calling it a whole lot of something. Or a rather large amount of something. Or, if you like your slang and your swear words, you could go with the old favourite of a 'fuckload'. I know. Sounds completely disgusting on it's own, but put it in a sentence - 'I have a shitload of schoolwork to do' OR 'Yep, I'd buy that pretty jacket, except it costs a fuckload of money'. Ahem. You see?

I'm addicted to sherbies
OMG. How much do I love Sherbies? I think I've probably lost half of my readers by now, so let me just clarify - Sherbies are an Australian chewy lolly/candy that are orange flavoured and have fizzy sherbert in the middle. They're bad for you, full of sugar but very, very yummy. I ate practically four jumbo bags of them whilst recovering from my laser eye surgery. Mmm. Sherbies. (I love 'Milko' lollies too.)

Invitation letter for mum and dad visa uk
Well, I don't know about the Visa part of this search, because I haven't yet filled mine out, BUT I do know that after I move to the UK? I'll be sending my mum and dad an invitation letter to come and visit me there. Can you guys convince them that flying to London to see their only daughter while she is away from home FOR TWO YEARS might be a nice thing to do? And that there are nifty things to see and do nearby? (If I were moving somewhere on Route 66, they'd be there in a jiffy.)

Great comeback lines
Oh, here's one - 'HE: Can I have your name? SHE: Why, don't you already have one?'

I am happy oh so happy
It should be illegal to be so happy before 9am on a Sunday morning. Bah humbug.

Poetry in voices line - with sticky fingers in humbug bed
Call me crazy, but didn't I just type the word 'humbug'? I think I must have been automatically reading ahead and stole the word.. from myself! I am clever. But, not clever enough to help you with the poetry request. I stink at poetry. Except for acrostics. I can write a mean acrostic poem.

I want my own baby stepmother
What the hell is a baby stepmother? Like, you want your stepmother to be the mother of your kid? Or you want a stepmother who is literally a baby? You're strange.

Chemicals are restless
Part of the song Flawed Design by Stabilo - 'The chemicals are restless in my head.' I actually love that line.

Crimpy Hairstyles
Want to see one? Okay! Don't say I didn't warn you!

Wine Tasting Blogs
I only drink wine on special occasions. Or nights out. Or nights in. And my wine taste are quite cheap - bring me a bottle of $6 riesling and I'll be your best friend. (And probably fall down in your driveway.)

Is not exaggered
I was all ready to start picking this search question apart because exaggered? (Hello, spell-check?) Until I followed the search myself. And realised that in one of my oh-so-deep attempts (Hello, sarcasm!) at writing a short story, I actually was the one who made that typo. Read the short story and see if you can spot it. Bonus points if you don't cringe all the way through.

Tully is a stupid book
I don't think so. I think it's quite a good book. A very good book actually.

Teacher mentor didn't do his job
Let's have him killed!

Pictures of an irritated baby flicking someone off
I live to serve. Here's one. Here's another. And here's another irritated child.

Is a 10 year old capable of putting in contact lenses?
Can 10 year olds even wear contacts? I got mine when I was in high school, and putting them in didn't bother me. But 10? That's Year 4. Nah. I wouldn't be giving my kid contact lenses at that age. I'd keep them wearing glasses until they absolutely couldn't stand it any longer, because as fabulous as contacts are? They do give you lots of sty's. And are expensive, and fussy and need to be looked after.

All out of garbage bags
Bummer. Now how will you make spiffy costumes for your kid's dance?

Dance bitch
Alright! [Does the Macarena.]

From one side of my head to the other migraine
Poor you. Perhaps you should go to the doctors. Who will no doubt prescribe you PANADOL and tell you you'll be fine. But you won't. You'll still be sick. And if you happen to go back again, they'll give you the same instructions. And you'll still be sick. (Not that this has happened to me personally, or anything. Oh no.)

Love songs about wanting someone else
How about that Lips of an Angel song by Hinder? I feel like punching the lead singer and his husky voice out every time I hear it. What a prick! 'Sometimes I wish she was you.' Well, Mr Voice, I bet sometimes she wishes that you'd stop waving your weeny arms around in the air in your stupid filmclips too, so THERE.

Commercials all about me
Off the top of my head, I can't think of any commercials made for me. I can tell you a whole list though, that make me cry. Let me know if you want that.

Subconjunctival hemmorage

Basically, it's a fancy-schmancy term for a burst blood vessel. Which is another fancy-schmancy term for an EVIL BIG RED UGLY PATCH IN YOUR EYEBALL THAT LOOKS DISGUSTING AND WILL ONLY GO AWAY BY ITSELF AND YOU CAN'T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT. That pretty much sums it up.

Eh Eh bunky lyrics
'Louise, Louise, Don't give me none of that bunky bunky'. Surely bunky bunky can only mean one thing, no? Maybe? Sort of? Or perhaps I have a dirty mind.

Lovely words for ...
For what? Lady bloggers? Squirrels? Bunky Bunky? ALY? I must know!

Clothes worn in movie Love Actually
Not sure, but I'd like them all. They all look so funky and fashionable in their English coats. I want an English coat. I'm going to need an English coat. I didn't particularly like anything that Keira Knightley wore in that movie. I preferred 'Natalie'. She always looked so gorgeous. Hey! Mum just reminded me of that movie last night - I'll be at London Heathrow airport the day after Christmas! With all the hugs and stuff! And the Beach Boys song serenading everyone through loudspeakers! Am so excited! (What? Are you telling me that doesn't happen? Phooey.)

I want birthday cards
I recieved a whopping thee cards this year. Are you jealous?

Bruise underneath lower lip after eating corn on the cob
There's no easy way to say this: your corn cob is trying to kill you! Run for cover!

Who sings boom boom boom i want you in my room?
That would be the Vengaboys. (I absolutely do not have this song on my Ipod.)

Smelly thong
Okay, that's just gross. I don't want to know about your and your smelly thongs, no matter which kind you're talking about - shoes or knickers. Yuck.

Hopefully my exercise (Exercise? That sounds familiar, but I just can't place it..) will permanently remove my cankles once and for all.

Squished boobs
This is what happens when I wear my Threadless shirts. They're great tees, though not particularly flattering to those of us with a little cleavage.

Pictures of the flying purple people eater
The FPPE is a bit like the Loch Ness Monster. We can only speculate. Eyewitnesses report that he looks a little like this. We may never know for sure.

Contiki tour grand southern reviews
Talk to me this time next year, and I'll give you my very own review.

Special words for a friends birthday
How about the good old fashioned 'Here's a blank cheque, pick out whatever you like, it's on me.' Or, you could just say 'Happy Birthday friend.' That could work.

Horror contiki experience Europe
I want to know all about your horror experience. I had an amazing time on mine. Oh wait, does that sound like I'm rubbing it in? I really don't mean to. It was just so excellent, the people were great, we saw so much . . . am I doing it again?

Chevy chase european vacation
Ha! I adore this movie. 'Look kids! Big Ben! Parliament!' I realise you'll have absolutely no idea what I'm on about unless you've actually seen the movie but come on. Who hasn't seen the Vacation movies? They're classic!

I've never actually typed it as one word before, but woo! Parra Eels! They've now replaced Penrith as my #1 Rugby League team, because Penrith? The boys have let me down. Plus, I haven't seen hunky Luke Rooney in forever, which is quite disappointing.

Fringe bangs around face picture
I'm much too scared to visit a hairdresser again anytime soon, let alone get bangs. But oh how I wish I could have nice, side-swept bangs. It's a shame my strange hair and cowlicks make it impossible to have that.

Koala biting in groin
That's got to be painful. I'd love to know what you have to do to piss off a koala. Steal their eucalyptus leaves? Poke them in the belly? Yowch.

Married by 26
That was "The Plan". Who knows if that'll happen? My bets are currently off.

Eight Things.

Since I've woken up this morning in a bit of a confused state of mind, (It's Saturday. I'm hungry. My glands are hurting. I miss Jason. Where is he right now anyway?) I've decided that instead of wandering around the house feeling lost, that I'll instead tackle the tagging invitation Lara and Kris sent out a couple of days ago. Say what you will about meme's, but they are a perfect distraction.

Here we go. (I'll try not to revolve my answers around a certain recurring theme.)

A. Each player lists 8 facts/habits about themselves.
B. The rules of the game are posted at the beginning before those facts/habits are listed.
C. At the end of the post, the player then tags 8 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog.

I can do that! [clears throat]

1. We'll start with something fresh, since you've all hopefully seen my bling picture. I have really large fingers. Scratch that, I'll be blunt. I have really FAT fingers. The top of them are average sized, but underneath the lower knuckle? They're huge. I remember being in high school and going shopping for a ring, and the jeweler told me I had the biggest fingers he'd ever seen on a woman. Needless to say, I've been scarred for life.

2. I still haven't read the new Harry Potter book. Yep, I'm a huge fan/nerd. Yep, I had it pre-ordered. Yep, it's sitting on my bookshelf. Yep, I stare at it lovingly every day. But I promised myself I would wait until Jase left before I read it, so it would be a nice distraction of sorts. My geek factor has kicked in again though, meaning I'm putting off reading it. (If you guys read my 100 things page, you might remember that I always start over in a series before I read the latest release?) Yep, I did that again. Finished Order of the Phoenix last night, now it's onto the Half Blood Prince, and EVENTUALLY I'll read the Deathly Hallows. I've managed to avoid seeing a single spoiler so far, so if you ruin it for me, I will hurt you.

3. I'm sick of being sick. Do I really need to go further? (I realise there are people who are legitimately much, much sicker than I am, but I still feel like crap.) Don't hate me.

4. My white-board calendar is still on June. I think I need to get with the times.

5. If I could have a servant for the day, their main tasks would include the following; washing my hair, brushing my hair, bringing me endless cups of tea and keeping me occupied. When did I get so restless anyway?

6. My newest bun, Ricky, seems to be growing up. (As evidenced by the fact that he now weighs more than Lucy and likes to hump everything in sight.) At our last vet visit I was told to ahem, check for certain prominent parts of his anatomy, and when I discovered them I could book him in to get his man-parts snipped off. (I don't know who is more tramatised every time we do this fun procedure, Ricky or me.) Well. As much as I have enjoyed that delightful task, to put it bluntly, I still can't find any boy-parts. Seeing as though I've never actually searched for bunny balls before and that there really isn't enough room in our hutch for baby rabbits, I think he'll need to go in for another checkup just to be on the safe side.

7. My birthday suitcase arrived the day before last. (It's light! It's pretty! It's red!) All I can think about now? Wanting to pack. Is five months before departure a little too early to be packed, do you think? I also want to pull apart my room completely right now, but again, probably a little too early on the organising. Settle down, self.

8. Dude! I just got a spam email from an astrology website, titled "Will He Come Back?" This is what it said: "Are you still obsessing about a relationship that absorbs all of your attention and has you wondering if he will come back?" Damn. That's some spooky shit. It's like it's reading my mind. [Freaks out.]

I'm not going to double my eight facts because let's face it, am lazy. And I'm also going to cheat on the tagging issue, so if you're up for a bit of a filler blog entry today (but an informative one at that!) feel free to steal.

Going, Going, Gone.

After a long day, Jase is currently flying through the air on his way to London.

I'm impressed I didn't bawl at the airport. I'm impressed I didn't bawl all the way home. I'm impressed I kept it together at all. I do have a feeling though, that it'll hit me some time later this evening. But that's okay. I'm home alone, so I can mope just a little without anyone noticing and worrying.

As for some great news, he's been offered a job! He got the contract before he left home, which makes things much less stressful on his part. I'm so excited for him. I wish I was going too. (It felt so strange standing at the luggage check-in queue and not actually having any luggage of my own.)

Everything will be awesome. I have "The List", we have Skype, we'll be fine.

But crap, do I miss him already.

Want to see my bling?

Not-So-Subtle Distractions.

So before I begin, I should inform you that I have tried to take photos of the birthday ring to share with you guys. Honestly. My camera though, isn't having a bar of it. Guess that's what you get for buying an el-cheapo digital camera with no zoom and an automatic flash. And for having a pale hand. Every time I try to take a picture of it, the flash turns everything white (well, whiter than it already is) and you can barely even tell I'm wearing a ring. I'll keep working on it.

But can I at least distract you with random animal/us pictures? Yes? Excellent!

You'll have to excuse the dodgy formatting, because I've figured that this theme? It does not like anything too fancy used with it. Center? Doesn't work. Trying to insert some basic html to get paragraphs? Er, no. And since my host has changed it's file servers, I'm stuck.

First is tanning bunnies. Watching them flop down on the ground is priceless. I did have other bunny pictures to show you, but this blog is being evil enough as it is already.  And next, these are my last photos that will be taken with Jase before he flies to London -- TOMORROW.  [Loud wailing.]  You'll have to excuse the red face and puffy eyes, and no, it's not from bawling at the thought of him leaving. It's the head cold and ahem, upper respiratory viral infection being plain old nasty. [Bleh.] Anyway, safe travels, dude. I love you. And I'll miss you. And just think of the perks over there, other than enjoying yourself in a foreign country and all. Let's face it, without my germs, you're most likely going to be sickness free for a while.And you'll get to go sightseeing!And be a tourist!And have fun! And maybe, just maybe, I'll learn how to mend holes in socks while you're away. Not that I'll be mending your socks like a house mistress or anything, but you know. It's a handy skill to have. Innit?

The Birthday Gift that Keeps on Giving.

I had an awesome dinner out last night, with just Jason and my parents to keep me company. Ajay was busy enjoying a Gwen Stefani concert ("Wind it UPPPPP!") with Hayley, so we were just a tiny group. We ate at Hogs Breath Cafe, which has been a family favourite of ours for years now, they make the yummiest steaks you will ever eat. (That statement coming from me, the person who doesn't actually eat steak.)


They also make good cocktails. This one was called 'Bliss' and I was convinced that it was completely healthy because it has cranberry juice in it. Never mind the vodka.

After agreeing on getting me an IOU present, Jase surprised me with a present after all. And the best part? Boy's got good taste. He bought me a gorgeous ring, complete with bling! (No, not that kind of bling, freaks.) It's absolutely stunning, and I can't stop looking at it. It's shiny! He did really, really well.

Plus, you all completely spoiled me with birthday wishes. I think that's my alltime comment record! You realise I'll expect that much comment loving every day now, yes?

(And I know that Jason was excited to get all your welcomes to the blogging world.)

But the absolute corker of all the birthday gifts this year?

I'm officially the proud owner of a throat and upper respiratory viral infection. The cure from my doctor? Rest. Relaxation. And Panadol. Bloody hell.

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